


Salvage Operation

by starandrea



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Bonding, M/M, Polyfidelity, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 15:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7690648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starandrea/pseuds/starandrea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim, Spock, and Uhura have been trying to navigate the boundaries of love and friendship since before they made a life on the Enterprise.  969 days in deep space, and it hasn't gotten any easier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Salvage Operation

Here's the thing: Jim didn't actually mean to bond with Spock, and he feels bad about it.  It was an accident, okay?  He personally thinks breaking up with Uhura and running off to hide on New Vulcan is an overreaction, but hey.  Nobody asked him.

He figured he could give Spock some breathing room by transferring to Yorktown.  It’s his fault, apparently, and he owes it to all of them to fix it.  It's not like Yorktown is a bad choice, anyway.  Ships come through all the time; he can get reassigned as soon as Starfleet’s forgotten why he's here.

Or he could have, if they ever caught a break.  If they ever had a time when there wasn't one more assignment, just one more reason to keep going.  If the entire universe didn't seem hell-bent on keeping him and Spock and Bones and Uhura and everyone they love together.  

It's like he's lost so much he's turned into some sort of black hole, and now no one he cares about can escape.  

He's standing next to Spock, staring up at the gaping skeleton that will one day become a starship.  He can feel Uhura on the other side, but it's Bones who speaks.  “You really want to head back out there, huh?”

Spock would have made a good captain, Jim thinks.  He deserves the Enterprise in a way Jim never has.  But if Spock isn't going to take her, then Jim’s not going to let her go.

“Yeah,” he says.  “We left someone behind.”

He manages to sneak out of the party while Uhura is distracting Spock with their second round of drinks.  He can't avoid Scotty, though, yelling after Jaylah to stop when she leaps down the courtyard wall behind him.  Jim halts where he is, rolling his eyes skyward (or close enough), and waits for them to catch up.

“Your house,” she says without preamble.  She disdains the universal translator, and Jim gets it.  He wouldn't have learned a word of Vulcan with that thing always in his ear.  “Pavel says it has power.  Thruster power.  Lift.”

Jim turns to look at her, then at Scotty scrambling across the sidewalk to join them.  “Enough to get her vertical,” he says.

“Structural integrity’s shot,” Scotty says immediately.  He knows what they’re planning, what Jim’s been thinking ever since he had time to breathe.  It’s not like Scotty isn’t thinking the same thing.  

“She made it through the atmosphere,” Jim points out.  He saw her hit the ground, and he walked her decks afterwards.  Ran them, jumped the gaps, dodged weapons’ fire on them.  Crashed her a second time.

“Aye, and she's been burning ever since,” Scotty says.  “She can take the impact, but I doubt she’s got enough left for a proper tow.  Getting her to escape velocity with a jerry rig, now that’ll be the miracle.”

“But you can do it,” Jim says.

Scotty looks at Jaylah, who lifts her chin.  “I am the salvor of your Franklin,” she says.  “I am entitled to compensation.  Montgomery Scotty will fix her, and we can use my house to move yours.”

Jim smiles, because she’ll be the best thing to happen to the academy in years.  “That’s very generous of you,” he says.  He gives her a half-bow.  “Your house is our way home.  Those sensor logs will get us back through the nebula.”

He looks up, and he sees her follow his gaze out of the corner of his eye.  Up is down here, and they’re looking straight into one of Yorktown’s launch bays.  “When it comes to rescuing the Enterprise,” he says, “there’s a lot of ships that owe her more than yours.  And I’m betting they want a chance to make good.”

“Did you get permission to go back, sir?”  Scotty looks both surprised and impressed, so Jim just shrugs it off.

“More or less,” he says.

Tradition says that crews are housed near their ships.  Yorktown is set up to make that uniquely possible.  With no Enterprise to keep company with this time, Jim’s crew has been moved into housing above (or below) the Franklin.

He left the party to do some math, to call his mom, and to memorize the name of every captain who was fighting through space debris and sensor interference to the wrong coordinates while Yorktown fought for its life.  He manages two out of three before Bones catches up with him again.  In a manner of speaking.

He flips the switch at the bottom of the nearest comm monitor without looking up from his calculations.  “Kirk here.”

“Hey, this thing you gave me,” Bones says.  Jim looks up long enough to see that Bones is still wearing it, and he doesn’t bother to hide his smirk.  “It’s not radioactive, is it?”

“Can’t confirm or deny,” Jim tells the tabletop display that holds his math.  Well, his and Scotty’s, when they don’t directly contradict each other.  “What do you want, Bones.”

“To make sure you’re not passed out drunk somewhere,” Bones says.  “Oh, and Spock’s looking for you.”

There’s a pause long enough for the numbers to stop making sense, but Jim keeps staring at them while he tries to think about anything other than Vulcans who can read his mind.  At a distance.  Because he asked them to.

As usual, it turns out he had no idea what he was asking.

“Yeah, that’s real convincing,” Bones says.  He’s talking to someone off-screen when Jim looks up, and Jim sighs even before Spock gets close enough for the audio to prioritize him.

“Hey, Spock,” he says.

“By your own admission,” Spock is saying, “you expected to find Jim here.  Whereas I am assigned to these quarters, and Nyota accompanied me, if I may presume, out of a desire for my company.  The one most logically in search of someone else, Doctor, is you.”

“Good guess,” Jim adds.  “It's like you know me or something.  Hey, do you think my mom’s asleep by now?”

“You still haven't called her?”  Bones sounds neither surprised nor resigned, which is exactly what Jim wants to hear right now.  “You considered maybe putting it off a few days this year?  You’ve been through a lot.

“Hell,” he adds, glancing over at something Jim can't see.  “We've all been through a lot.”

“Too late,” Jim says.  “Base is on Andorian time.  Already missed it.”

Bones squints at him suspiciously through the comm link.  “Now, what did I tell you about drinking alone?”

“I'm in Uhura's room,” he says.  “Running simulations.”

“Of course you are,” Bones says with a sigh.  “Simulations of what, exactly?”

He taps the tabletop display, then the comm monitor, and now he has two screens filled with trajectories and load limits.  Jim switches his video feed back to the camera on their end and watches Spock lean in.  “You propose a salvage operation,” Spock says, studying the screen.

Jim shrugs.  “Yorktown aside, Starfleet doesn’t have unlimited resources.  No reason to write off a recoverable asset even if she turns out to be so much scrap metal.”

“I’m coming over there,” Uhura’s voice says.  Close enough for the audio to focus on her, but not close enough to be seen over Spock’s shoulder.

“Can’t stop you,” Jim replies.  “Gotta go.”

He shuts off the comm and disconnects from his account, grabbing his jacket from the back of the couch as he leaves.  They’re just down the hall and he still makes it into the lift before anyone else opens a door.  If they can avoid having this conversation on the ship, they can damn well avoid it on a starbase as big as Yorktown.

Besides, he has captains to con and a birthday to exploit.  If he can make this an active salvage operation by, say, tomorrow morning, Paris will have an excuse to delay his court martial.  Explaining the loss of the Enterprise will play better if it’s juxtaposed with the ship’s recovery.

He calls Pavel and gets an invite to the party’s much rowdier continuation, out in circulation with the rest of the hotshot fliers and the space junkies.  The average age of any Starfleet officer captain or below is a lot younger than it used to be.  On the other hand, family attachment is down and recruiting is up.  For whatever that’s worth.

Pavel greets him enthusiastically, a drink in one hand and a pretty gentleman on his free arm.  The woman to his right is the captain of the USS Constitution.  Jim smiles as humbly as he can, sliding in next to her and accepting both a drink and her condolences.

By the time they’ve drawn the captain of the Challenger and the XO of the Spirit, Pavel’s gotten someone else to suggest salvage before Jim can even say the word.  When the Spirit’s XO calls it righting a wrong, Jim smiles.  He tips his glass in Pavel’s direction and he gets a wink in return.  

Bones says they’re two of a kind.  He’s not wrong.

“Excuse me,” Jim says, when his communicator chirps loud enough to be heard over the conversation.  They’d be well into third shift now, back home.  “Kirk here.”

“Hi, Uncle Jim!” a little voice says.  “Happy birthday!”

He only knows one small child in communicator range, and he smiles as he turns away from the noise as best he can.  “Hey there, Demi.  How are you?”

“Good!” she says.  “I made you a birthday card!”

“Wow,” he says, putting a hand on Pavel’s shoulder and pushing himself to his feet.  “That sounds great.”

“Can you come and have dinner with us?” she continues.  “Daddy says your ship is broken, so you can’t have dinner there.  But we have lots of food, so you should come see us.”

He almost laughs, and Pavel lifts his glass when Jim waves him off.  “To the Enterprise!” Pavel says, and the echo from the group must make it over the communicator to Demi.

“Are they cheering for your ship?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Jim says, patting Pavel’s shoulder again.  “Yeah, they’re cheering for the ship.  And I’d love to have dinner with you.  Thank you.”

There’s a pause, and behind him another voice says, “To Captain Kirk!”  The boisterous group is just as happy to toast him as the Enterprise, and he pulls away from them to the sound of laughter.

“Daddy says you have to sleep first,” Demi’s saying when he can hear her again.  “Are you tired?”

He figures it’s more important that Hikaru gets sleep than he does, so he says, “Yeah, a little.  Can I talk to your dad for a minute?”

“Okay,” she says.  “Good night, Uncle Jim!”

“Night,” he says, setting his unfinished drink down inside the door before pushing out into Yorktown’s ambiguous twilight.  Down is up, and he’s careful to keep his eyes on the street.

It’s only a couple of a seconds before he hears Hikaru’s voice.  Just long enough to make all of it feel like a dream.  He can’t tell if it’s disorientation from the gravity, the bond trying to reassert itself, alcohol or just plain fatigue, but he puts a hand on a nearby railing and waits for the world to steady.

“Captain,” Hikaru says.  “Come over right now if you want.  She’s very excited.”

He can’t help but grin, the weird disassociation fading into the background.  “Yeah, me too,” he says.  “But I’ve been out making friends.  I’ll be better company tomorrow, I promise.”

“You got anyone with you, sir?” Hikaru asks.

“Yeah,” Jim lies.  “Pavel’s here, don’t worry.”

“You got anyone with you?” Hikaru repeats dryly, and Jim does laugh this time.

“I’m done,” he says.  “Heading back now.  I’ll, uh--get some sleep, I guess.  Tomorrow for dinner okay?”

“Sure,” Hikaru says.  “Can I ask what you’re making friends for, sir?”

Jim snorts, angling through and around fellow passersby with the ease of people used to navigating much narrower spaces.  “Are you implying I don’t make friends without a reason?”

“Depends who they are, sir.”

Jim smiles at no one, forgetting to keep his eyes on the road when the lights of an opposing arm trick him into looking for the stars.  “We’re going back for our ship, Lieutenant.”

Hikaru sounds like he’s smiling back when he says, “Didn’t doubt it for a second, Captain.”

Their quarters are close enough together that he can tell Spock’s nearby even before he gets to their floor.  He doesn’t remember when he first noticed it.  They’re around each other constantly, so it’s mostly the moments he’s not aware of Spock that stand out.  But supposedly the proximity sense came with the bond.

It’s not good enough to warn him before he keys in his door code and steps into a darkened but not empty room.

Jim sighs, because he really should have seen this coming.  “What, Spock,” he says, and it sounds tired even to him.

The silhouette in the chair by the window doesn’t move, and Jim doesn’t bother to turn on a light.  “You indicated we should sit down,” Spock says.  His voice is perfectly neutral, if a little quieter than usual.  “After the rescue mission to Altamid.”

Jim doesn’t move.  He can do controlled.  He’s awesome at control.  “You told Uhura you were leaving the ship.”

“I discussed the possibility of continuing my genetic line with another Vulcan,” Spock says.  “I attempted to discuss it with you as well, but I was… unsuccessful.”

“Unsuccessful,” Jim repeats flatly.  “You were unsuccessful.  At telling me you wanted off the Enterprise?”

“Yes,” Spock says.

Jim crosses his arms, fisting his hands in his jacket.  “Spock, you’re in my head.  You think something at me loud enough and I’ll hear it!  You couldn’t manage ‘I want to leave’?”

“It is precisely the fact that we share some conscious thought processes that has made it difficult for me to interact with you.”  Spock’s tone is clipped, his enunciation careful and precise like the words can protect him from Jim’s wrath.  “I am aware that you find the situation unpleasant, but you have refused every effort on my part to alleviate it.  If I may neither break the bond nor allow it to persist, if I am not free to go nor welcome to stay, please tell me: what options remain to me?”

“I haven’t refused--”  Jim drags a hand over his face and takes a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh.  “Do you know how many lectures Bones gave me?  On the Vulcan psyche?  On what’s involved in breaking a bond?”

Spock is just a shadow in front of the dimly lit window, but he sounds stiffer now than when he started.  “To force a bond on an unwilling partner is legally criminal and morally reprehensible.”

Jim wants to say, _Don’t be stupid._  It’s what Bones would say.  Some shred of tact makes him say, “You know I’m not unwilling,” instead.

“It was formed without intent,” Spock says.  “It causes you distress.”

“You cause me distress,” Jim snaps.  “I don’t have a problem with the bond, Spock.  I have a problem with a psychic connection I didn’t know about messing up all of my personal relationships.  I have a problem with you not telling me we’re married and then sneakily trying to get divorced.  I have a big problem with you making yourself miserable over something I would have agreed to if you’d just told me about it in the first place!”

He can barely see Spock and it’s still too much.  He turns away and it doesn’t help, so he lets go of his jacket and clenches his hands on his hips instead, trying to stay aware of his own body.  Another fun side effect of the bond: sometimes he feels like he’s someone else.

He’s not sure how long he stands there, exhausted and frustrated and trying not to lose it, before he realizes Spock’s not answering.  Which doesn’t seem fair, somehow.  “It fucks up your life too,” he says over his shoulder.  “Don’t pretend this is just about me.”

The pause is shorter this time, but at least he can tell Spock hasn’t moved from the window.  “There are few aspects of my relationship with you that have not made my life more complicated,” Spock says.  “But Nyota once told me the point of being with someone is that they’re worth disrupting your routine for.”

Jim lifts his head, frowning into the darkness by the door.  He repeats it in his mind before deciding that yes, Spock just quoted his girlfriend's awkward declaration of love to his accidental husband.  He turns around, squinting in the direction of the chair.

“Did you just use one of Uhura’s lines on me?” Jim asks.

There’s the slightest hesitation before Spock says, “Mine did not seem effective.”

“Huh,” Jim says.  “That’s…”  Oddly touching, actually.  He should probably tell her.  “Okay.”

“If I could change the past,” Spock says, “I would tell you of my suspicions about the bond when I first became aware of them.  Unfortunately, history suggests it will be many decades before I have that capability.”

It takes a moment for that to sink in, and Jim blames the long day.  “Please don’t destroy a star just to keep me from complaining about our secret marriage.”

“You leave me little recourse,” Spock tells him.

“I'm not the one who did this,” Jim retorts.

“I am not confused about your role in the situation,” Spock replies.  “Tell me what you would have me do.”

“Stay,” Jim says.  It’s a dick move, and he feels bad about it, but not as bad as he’ll feel without Spock.  If he gets one thing, he wants this.  “You belong here.  It’s your home now.  Don’t give that up because I--”

He meant to finish that sentence. He was about to, but he doesn’t know how it ends, and the longer he stands there thinking about it the more impossible it becomes.

“I don’t want to leave you,” Spock says at last.

Jim knew he wouldn’t get through this without yelling, but it’s the “you” that does it.  “Then why did you tell her and not me!”

Spock’s voice is cold and hard in the shadows.  “Why did you request a position on Yorktown?”

Jim pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut and wishing they could do this some other time.  Or never.  Never would be fine with him.

“If we can’t both have the Enterprise,” he tells the floor, “I figured you deserve her more.”  He wants to say, _I didn’t lose my whole damned planet._  He wants to say, _you shouldn’t have to give up both of us._  But it’s a miracle he got out any words at all, and he’ll never be able to explain himself to this man.

“I don’t want the Enterprise without you,” Spock says.  “I thought I had made that clear.”

Jim waves one hand impatiently in the dark, trying and failing to encompass everything ridiculous about the situation.  “Then why the hell are we having this conversation!”

Spock’s voice is quieter when he says, “We can not continue as we are.”

Jim lets his hand fall, because yeah.  See.  This is what he thought they were going to talk about.  “Sorry my… emotions are so loud.  How long has that been fucking up your reactions?”

Spock doesn’t answer, which probably means since the beginning.  Jim sighs.  “Look, for what it’s worth.  It’s not like I try to make you laugh, or whatever.”

He can see the silhouette of Spock’s head tilt, and it’s strangely reassuring.  “Sometimes,” Spock says.  “You do try.”

Jim can’t help but smile.  He knows he shouldn’t, but it’s late and Spock’s still talking to him.  “Yeah,” he admits.  “But I’ll stop.  Bones says they can be dormant, right?  I mean, when kids are bonded, they don’t have the whole emotional transference thing.  Can we do that?”

There’s no hesitation this time.  “It is possible,” Spock says.

Really, Jim thinks.  If there’s anything the destruction of their planet taught the Federation, it’s what happens to Vulcans who lose a bond.  So Jim’s followed up on every scrap of information he could find, dug under every rock, paid attention to every whisper.  Nothing he’s heard says it’s that easy.  

“Spock, are you lying to me right now?”

“No,” Spock says.

“Are you intentionally deceiving me right now,” Jim says.

This time it’s there: a hesitation, no matter how brief, that always precedes the truth.  “I am downplaying the difficulty of what you suggest,” Spock says.  

Now they’re getting somewhere.  “So tell me what would be easier,” Jim says.

“There are no straightforward solutions,” Spock replies.

Or not, Jim thinks with a sigh.  “Spock,” he says.  “I’m tired.  We lost people out there.  We lost the ship.  And this, right now?  This is us losing each other.  So either you give me something to work with, or…”

If he knew “or what,” they’d already be doing it.  He’s exhausted and heartbroken and he couldn’t even call his mother on the anniversary of his father’s death.  What kind of person is he to make demands of Spock?

“I don’t know,” Jim mutters at last.  “I really don’t know what else there is.”

Spock is standing now, and Jim didn’t even see him get up.  He’s come closer, quiet and warm and so obvious, like there’s a light on him somehow, like he’s the only bright thing in the darkened room.  “I can suppress the bond,” he says.  “I can not break it properly without the assistance of a healer, but such assistance could be sought.”

Jim puts a hand up.  He just wants to stop him, to keep this from escalating, but Spock is right there and Jim’s hand lands on his chest.  He doesn’t pull it away.

“Do you want it gone,” Jim says quietly.  “Tell me the truth.”

Spock doesn’t move.  He also doesn’t speak.

“I told you I wanted you to stay,” Jim reminds him.  “Be selfish, Spock.  For once in your life.  Do you want it broken.  Yes or no.”

“No,” Spock says softly.

“Good,” Jim says.  “Great; it stays.  Keep going.  Why can’t we suppress it?”

“Dormant bonds are most commonly a product of distance or disinterest.”  Spock’s voice isn’t any louder than it was when he said “no,” but at least he’s talking.  “Neither of those conditions applies here.”

“Yeah, well, not for lack of trying,” Jim grumbles.

Hot fingers are suddenly pressing his own harder against Spock’s chest.  His hand twitches in surprise, but Spock holds firm.  “I have reached out to you along this bond every day since I realized what it is,” he murmurs.  “Every time you’re near, I hear it humming in my mind.  When you stand next to me, it’s all I can see.  When you touch me, it’s all I can think about.  

“I can and have suppressed these reactions,” Spock adds, “though not the sensations that cause them, and only at great cost to my own concentration.  Recently you have complained of my inattentiveness and wandering focus.”

Spock has a gift for politely making him feel like the biggest asshole in the world.  “It distracts you that much,” Jim says flatly.

“The purpose of the bond is to encourage connection,” Spock says.  “I have reason to strongly desire what it offers, so my resistance is naturally low.”

“What happens if you don’t--suppress those reactions?” Jim asks.  “Is that the…”  It’s hard to talk about.  Spock’s not wrong.  But Spock is literally holding his hand, so Jim tries again.  “When you laugh,” he says.  “Or yell at someone.  Is that what that is?”

“When two Vulcans bond,” Spock says, “they are able to reinforce each other’s control of shared emotions.  I understand it may be different for bonded non-Vulcans, but so far, case studies have been rare.”

“What about your parents?” Jim asks.

“They were… disinclined to discuss such matters with their son,” Spock says.

Of course they didn’t talk about it with their kid.  He and Spock can barely talk about it with each other.  He flexes his fingers just a little bit.  Spock’s grip loosens on his but doesn’t release.

“Okay, so.  Let me get this straight,” Jim says.  “Our options are suppressing it, so what you don’t have makes you miserable, or not suppressing it, so what you do have makes you miserable.  That’s a hard game to win, Spock.”

“Suppressing the bond is uncomfortable,” Spock says.  “I have no experience that makes me think not doing so would be equally unpleasant.”

Jim stands there for a long moment, his hand on Spock’s chest, wondering if Spock just told him he wants to get married for real.  

He can’t figure it out, so finally he asks, “You want to try it?”

“Yes,” Spock says simply, and Jim blinks.

“Hey,” he says.  “That wasn’t so hard.  We should try talking more.”

“You must be willing as well,” Spock says.  “You should understand that--”

“I said I am,” Jim interrupts, but Spock doesn’t stop.

“This action is effectively irreversible, at least in the short term, and it’s possible it will compromise your ability to command--”

“Oh, like it does yours?” Jim retorts.  “Bonded Vulcans serve on starships, Spock; I think I can handle it--”

“Which may not be an immediate concern, but will jeopardize your standing in Starfleet and possibly your prospects on this base while we await reassignment--”

“Do you always have to talk over me?” Jim demands, because he’s not stopping if Spock doesn’t and they’ve done this a hundred times before.  “Just because you can hear everything I say doesn’t mean it isn’t rude, and what do you mean, reassignment!”

“Here, or on ships departing from this or other proximate locations,” Spock finishes.

The silence that follows is heavy and filled with something terrible Jim doesn’t want to name.  Rejection, maybe, or inevitability.  An intolerable longing.  Emptiness.

If anything can be filled with emptiness, the space between them is packed with it.  Still, Spock doesn’t back down.  “The Enterprise is gone, Jim.  We will be reassigned.”

“Wow,” Jim says.  This time he pulls hard, yanking his hand sharply enough to break fingers if Spock doesn’t let go.

Spock lets him go, and the emptiness yawns cold and cavernous.

“It’s like you don’t know me at all,” Jim tells him.  

They stand there, staring at each other, for longer than he really wants to think about.  They’re just shadows in the darkness.  He can’t see Spock’s expression, and without touching him he can’t feel anything but unease.  Wariness.

Fear, if he has to call it like he feels it.  It feels like fear.

“You know I will follow you,” Spock says at last.  “But it is illogical to pretend that circumstances are other than what they are.”

“Well, what can I say.”  Jim grabs at his coat again, squeezing hard to keep from reaching for Spock.  “I’m an illogical kind of guy.”

It’s a moment made for walking away.  Jim doesn’t move, but he’s a little surprised when Spock doesn’t either.  He gets that Spock wants it to be his decision, but these are Jim’s quarters, and he’s tired.  He’s not giving up his bed just for someone else’s dramatic gesture.

Spock’s voice is careful when he says, “It was not my intent to upset you.”

“The hell it wasn’t,” Jim tells him.  “Everything in that speech was about making me back off.  You want me to know what I’m getting into?  Fine.  So do I!  But I’m not the one who’s scared, Spock.”

Maybe he’s supposed to take the silence as agreement.  Maybe he’d know if the bond was better, or stronger, or whatever it is Spock says he wants but won’t let himself have.  But Jim’s only human, and he needs s _omething._  It doesn’t even have to be words; action’s been enough for him the past.

Spock doesn’t move, and he doesn’t speak.  Jim wants to touch him, to kiss him, to smooth his hair or stroke his skin or do anything to make this easier.  But he’s still Spock’s commanding officer, and Spock could have stopped at “yes.”

“Look,” Jim says, lifting his hand.  He drags it over his own face at the last second, closing his eyes and trying to feel calm and reassuring just in case Spock can tell.  “I’m going to bed.  Stay if you want.  Lock the door if you go.  It’ll all still be here in the morning.”

Spock sounds almost normal when he says, “I prefer to stay.”

“Great,” Jim mutters.  He’s going to leave the lights off just to be annoying.  “You know where stuff is as well as I do.  Help yourself.”

“Thank you,” Spock says.  Jim doesn’t ask what happened to not thanking logic: he just said he isn’t logical, so he probably doesn’t count anyway.  

He takes perverse pleasure in closing the bedroom door.  There aren’t enough doors to close on the Enterprise, so he might as well enjoy it while he can.  Before he falls asleep, he runs through the list of people he still needs to convince: about the ship, about the crew, about doing what you can to get what you want.

Spock’s name is at the top of every list.


End file.
